


A Town Outing

by Angelise (angelise7)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: As in-coming out to your friends, Coming Out, Friends who laid bets on the date of said coming out, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair have news they wish to share with their friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Town Outing

Simon was having a good day.

Of course it was only 7:45 in the morning, and he had yet to exit his car. Undoubtedly, once he did, his day would go to hell in 90 seconds flat, the exact amount of time it took for him to walk from the underground parking garage to his office upstairs.

“Tell me again why I haven’t retired?” he demanded of his reflection in the rear-view mirror. Weary, blood-shot eyes gave him his answer. “Oh yeah, college tuition.”

He reached for his jacket and the cigar he had stashed inside a hidden pocket. His fingers brushed against something that wasn’t his cigar, and a huge smile broke out on his face.

Tickets. Basketball tickets. Given to him by the Commissioner at last night’s monthly budget meeting. Thanks to one specific team of detectives, his department was the only one under budget for the fiscal year, and he was cheerfully reaping in the rewards.

“The Jags. Courtside seats. Championship game. Can life get any sweeter than this?”

Simon got out of his car and slipped on his suit jacket. Maybe he  _was_ going to have a good day after all.

Whistling a happy tune, he started walking toward the stairwell that would take him to Major Crimes, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Ellison’s Ford truck parked to his far left. He could plainly see that both Jim and Blair were sitting inside, and were, no doubt, discussing how a sentinel and his guide could use their unique talents to solve the crime they were currently investigating, thus earning their captain another pat on the back for a job well done.

“Wonder if the Commissioner would spring for dinner reservations at that new five-star restaurant? Best steaks in town is what I’m hearing.”

Tightly clutching his gift, he was suddenly hit with the urge to gloat about his good fortune. Of course, he’d wait until much,  _much_ later in the day to inform his green-with-envy friends that he had been given  _three_ tickets, one for him and two for the top-notch team of Ellison and Sandburg.

“Today is looking better and better.”

Stopping just out of sight of the driver’s door window, he made a mental note to have Rhonda email Maintenance about the busted overhead light in that particular area of the garage. Not only was it unsafe, but it was  _way_ too dark for Blair to see the coveted tickets that would soon be waved under his nose. Jim would have no trouble because of his sentinel abilities, but he wanted to make damn sure his tag-a-long guide was duly impressed.

Of the three of them, Blair was the only one who had seriously doubted the Jags’ chances at reaching the playoffs. ‘They’re good, Simon, I’ll give you that,’ Blair had conceded mid-way through the season. ‘But go all the way? Don’t think so, Amigo. Not with the injuries they’ve incurred this year.’

Much to his disbelief, Simon was then informed that a certain long-haired detective had even gone as far as to join the office pool and bet  _against_ the Jags making it to the championship game. How dare the little shit doubt the skill of their beloved team? Jags ruled!

Knowing he’d have Jim’s full support, he decided Blair needed to grovel quite a bit before being let off the hook, and what better place to grovel than upstairs in the midst of loyal Jag fans? Nearly every member of Major Crimes was a Jag’s enthusiast and would, without a doubt, revel in the chance to rag Blair about his disastrous miscalculations.

With that in mind he tucked the tickets back inside his pocket. “Kid, just wait until H gets a hold of you. No telling what kind of revenge he’ll extract.” Simon smiled gleefully while rubbing his hands together. “Your ass is definitely in deep shit.”

Curious as to why his two best detectives were not upstairs hard at work, he raised a hand to tap on the window. His fist never made contact with the glass. His lower jaw, however, made contact with the cold, cement floor six feet below it.

Jim and Blair were kissing.

Kissing as in bold capital letters KISSING.

Kissing as in suck the air, the tonsils and the tongue out of your partner’s mouth KISSING.

Kissing as in . . .  damn it, two men KISSING!

Simon dropped his eyes in embarrassment and received the second shock of his life.

Blair was groping his partner’s crotch, and Jim was enjoying it way too much if the loud noises he was making were anything to go by.

“Fuck!”

The true meaning of his hissed expletive slapped him in the face, and Simon turned on his heel, moving with lightening speed in the direction of the stairwell. His pace quickened when he heard the door of the truck slam closed, followed by Jim’s voice admonishing his partner.

“Shit, Blair, control yourself. Didn’t you get enough last night?”

“Never, Big Guy. I’ll  **never** get enough of your big, bad soldier. How ‘bout a quickie before we go up? It’s dark. Nobody’s around. Come on, Jim. Let me at him.”

Simon didn’t hang around to hear Jim’s answer. He hit the stairs at a run, making a second mental note to negate the first mental note he had made earlier about the broken light fixture. Some things were better left in the dark. Way, way,  _way_ in the dark.

Later in the morning Simon sat behind his desk flipping folders open and closed, shifting papers unseen while he stared through his office window at the two men flirting shamelessly with his secretary.

Jim and Blair.

Jim  _and_ Blair.

That word ‘and’ took on a brand new meaning, and suddenly he discovered he wasn’t really all that bothered by the fact that his finest detective was sneaking in the back door of his newest detective.

He, along with nearly every member of Major Crimes, had suspected there was a whole lot more going on than just friendship when it came to the team of Ellison and Sandburg. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the two men were seriously attracted to each other and after three years of living together, even the simplest minded of individuals could see how much Jim loved Blair and vice versa. And, as anyone in Major Crimes could and would willing attest to, Simon Banks was anything  _but_ simple-minded.

Yet, even though he was good with their relationship, he was not in any way okay with what he had seen earlier in the parking garage. Sucking face and groping crotches was not the type of behaviour his top-notch team should be indulging in while on duty. Hell, if any of the higher ups got wind of their hanky-panky, he sure as hell could kiss any future Jag tickets good-bye.

Maybe it was time for a friendly lecture, specifically the one entitled, ‘How to Keep Your Captain from Firing Your Sorry Asses for Behaviour Unbecoming of an Officer.’

He contemplated his empty coffee mug and wondered where and when he should present said lecture. Before the treasured, hand-painted gift from his then three-year old son could provide him with an answer, someone dared knocked on his door.

“Enter!”

Jim’s face appeared through the crack.

“Simon? You got a minute?”

Forty-six minutes and one stern lecture later he knew for a fact that he was going to have a very good day, and it was only going to get better because . . . .

Tickets! Jag championship tickets!

+++++++

 

“Look, sweetheart. Maybe we should try another store,” Joel Taggart hesitantly suggested to his wife. “I understand Kornmeyers on Government Street has excellent mattresses.”

“Excellent prices, you mean,” Martha replied.

Ignoring his aching feet, Joel smiled sweetly at his wife and followed her down another aisle. He stood patiently for a few minutes while she haggled about the various levels of firmness with the salesman. When the two of them started discussing padding and springs, he knew his feet were in trouble.

Catching sight of a chair tucked between two displays of bedroom furniture, he gathered what was soon to be the one thousand and one shopping bags resting on the floor and edged toward it. A disapproving frown followed him, but he pretended not to see it. He had just finished a ten-hour shift, not to mention a marathon shopping spree. His dogs were T…I…R…E…D, tired. If Martha had a problem with him resting his feet, well then, so be it. Besides, he was only along because his wife’s usual shopping companion, his talk-your-head-off sister-in-law was away on some cruise with her current, no-good, lazy-bum boyfriend.

Joel was seriously considering pulling his shoes off and putting his feet up on the bed next to him when he heard a familiar voice.

“Come on, Big Guy. Nobody’s watching.”

“I swear, Chief, this has got to be the most harebrained idea of yours yet.”

“Come on, Jim. You know you want to.”

Joel smiled. Ellison might as well give it up. Sandburg was using the  _voice_ , the one that got him anything his little heart desired.

“Come on. You know we have to test it. Gotta make sure it can handle all that hot and heavy action you’re so fond of.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re full of shit, Sandburg?”

Joel heard Blair’s chuckle, and his own grin grew in size. He loved it when the two men bickered with one another.

“The sooner you cooperate,” Blair answered his partner, “the sooner I’ll be full of something other than shit.”

“Huh?” Aching feet forgotten, he stood up and peered over the petition behind him. His eyeballs nearly popped out of his head when he saw his two friends cavorting on the mattress.

Jim and Blair cavorting.

Cavorting!

Together!

Cavorting as in Jim, begrudgingly lying down flat on the mattress and Blair, eagerly straddling and humping his red-cheeked partner’s lower torso, i.e., cavorting.

Damnation!

Keeping one eye on his friends and one eye on his wife, Joel dug for his wallet. He very much needed to check which day he had picked for the office pool. Several months ago every one in the department had gotten together and betted on the exact day Jim Ellison would pull his head out of his butt and realize Blair Sandburg was the man of his dreams. Two hundred and fifty dollars were now at stake, and he got downright giddy calculating how many model airplane kits he could buy with that amount of money.

His damn wallet proved stubborn, and because of the extra weight he had put on recently, required an enormous amount of effort before it could be coaxed free of its pocket. Unfortunately the extra effort threw him off-balance and over he went, crashing through the petition and landing uninvited next to the mattress Jim and Blair were  _still_ cavorting on.

Praying for a miracle he knew without a doubt was not coming his way he opened his eyes and smiled for all he was worth.

“Fellas! Shopping for a new bed?”

Martha found him a half an hour later sitting snugly between Jim and Blair on the mattress with his stocking feet propped up on Sandburg’s backpack.

Both couples went home with new mattresses.

 

+++++++

 

“Hey, H,” Blair mumbled around the whole wheat pumpkin spice muffin he was stuffing in his mouth. “Joel’s wife just dropped off a basket of freshly baked muffins in the breakroom. Man, are they awesome.”

H immediately dropped the form he was working on and sniffed the air. “Muffins? Did you say muffins?”

His chair hit the floor with a loud clatter. Ignoring both Blair’s laughter and the fallen chair, he took off. Rafe, who was currently downstairs in the file room, had a serious sweet tooth, and he knew he’d be out of luck if Mr. ‘I’ll Kill You if You Even Look at my Snicker’s Bar’ got wind of the muffins’ existence.

“Thanks, buddy, for the head’s up. I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning, and my insides are protesting big time.” H threw a wave of appreciation in Blair’s direction before hurrying toward the breakroom. “Maybe, just maybe I’ll be nice and save at least  **one** muffin for the man promising to set me up with his sister. Hell, if she’s as good-looking and fancy-dressing as Rafe, I just might bring him  **two** muffins.”

He was almost at the door when he heard Ellison’s voice.

“Yes, a dozen long-stemmed roses. Red.”

He stopped dead in his tracks and unashamedly eavesdropped. What woman could have possibly snagged the buff detective’s heart? A dozen roses equalled major bucks which meant Ellison Babe #17 must be one hell of a woman. Damn!

“To whom should the card be addressed?” He heard Jim ask.

“Blair Sandburg” Ellison replied. “No, not Blair with an e, just Blair as in B…L…A…I…R.”

H high-fived a confused-looking Rhonda who just happened to be passing by and witnessed his outrageous victory dance. He knew he looked like an idiot, but that didn’t matter. Right now he had some serious eavesdropping to do, and only once he was finished would he explain the reason for his silly antics.

“The message? Let’s keep it simple,” Jim was saying. “Have it read, ‘I love you, Chief.’ And sign it, ‘Jim.’ Yeah, that’s all. Thanks.”

Thoughts of muffins, Rafe and Rafe’s sister evaporated into nothingness as he processed what he had just heard. Ellison and Sandburg. Big, tough, ex-Army Ranger sending roses to Detective-slash-Professor Hairboy?

Yes!

He threw one arm in the air then snapped it back down to his side and giggled with glee. He had just won the office pool. Two hundred and fifty bucks were all his because today was the day the all-knowing and all-seeing Swami Brown had chosen as the date of the auspicious occasion.

Rafe was gonna be  _sooooo_ mad.

Wait!

He stopped dancing and slammed one fist against the wall. How in the hell was he going to prove that he had just won the pool?

Rubbing his bald head, he contemplated several devious plans that would provide his comrades with the proper proof. He was deep in thought and nearly jumped out his skin when Ellison took him by the arm and pulled him into the breakroom.

Visions of his impending death hindered his hearing, and it took a hard shake of his shoulder before he heard Jim say, “ . . . thought I heard you loitering in the hallway. How ‘bout you and I have a little talk?”

He never did get his muffin.

+++++++

 

“Thanks for the ride, Jim. I’ll call a tow truck the second I get home and arrange for them to take my car to the dealership in the morning.” Stephen ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t, for the life of me, understand why it wouldn’t start. Damn thing was just fine earlier today.”

“No problem, Bro,” Jim replied as he secured his seatbelt. “Besides, it’ll give me the chance to check out your new digs.”

Stephen grinned. “That’s right. You haven’t seen my new house. It’s nice, Jim. You’ll like it.” Patting the pockets of his suit jacket, he searched for his sunglasses and sighed when he couldn’t locate them. They were in his car, of course, which was unfortunately parked back at his brother’s place.

“As soon as I get everything unpacked, I’ll have you and Blair over,” he promised after providing Jim with the directions to his new home. “But I’m warning you here and now. No way am I as good a cook as your partner. Damn, Jim. Those salmon steaks of his just about melted in your mouth. How ‘bout we do lunch again tomorrow. Blair wouldn’t cooking again, would he?”

Jim laughed. “I’ll have to check our calendar, but you’re right. Blair’s a damn  _Emeril_ when it comes to cooking.”

The truck came to a stop, and he frowned in confusion when his brother turned right instead of left. “Hey, my place is the other wa--- Shit!”

Bright light from the afternoon sun hit him straight in the face and blinded him momentarily. He instinctively reached for the visor to block his view and grunted when he was bombarded by a handful of photographs the instant the visor dropped down into place.

“What the hell?” Unbuckling his seatbelt, he reached down to collect the fallen photos. He froze in place when he realized the subject matter of each and every picture.

His brother.

His brother  _and_ another man.

His straight as an arrow, het to the max, brother, James Ellison, hugging and smooching on a man,  _specifically_ the man who had just cooked him the best lunch he’d ever eaten.

Stephen gulped when one particular photo snagged his attention. It showed a naked Blair sprawled face down across a bed that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt belonged to his brother. The photo required no explanation. It was plain to see what had or what was about to occur. Hell, the tube of lubrication and box of condoms alone was clue enough, not to mention the…

His eyes flew open wide when he noted the dildo lying next to Blair’s left hip. Oh shit. Way too much information, thank you.

“It’s okay, Stephen. Breathe, Stephen,” he heard Jim saying through the fog of scandalous disbelief blanketing his brain.

Tearing his gaze away from the amazingly large, and, what the hell!,  **_studded_ ** dildo, he looked up at his brother and took a much needed breath.

“Fuck!”

Jim smiled and took the photo out of his hand. “You said it, not me.”

He punched his brother hard on the shoulder and grinned when astounded blue eyes flew in his direction. Guess those martial arts lessons weren’t such a waste of time after all.

He punched his older sibling once more for good measure. “Jesus Christ, Jim! When were you going to tell me?”

“How about now?”

It was dark when Stephen, along with a blue-lidded Tupperware container filled with tasty leftovers, returned home in his miraculously repaired car.

 

+++++++

 

A voice like the rustle of velvet whispered in his ear.

“Silk.”

Brian Rafe glanced at the mirrored wall in front of him and found it empty except for his reflection. He frowned while entertaining thoughts of retribution.

The voice returned, bringing with it a caress of warm air.

“Silk, soft silk.”

Long fingers leisurely strayed through the short strands of his hair. Rafe softly moaned and negated the scheme of revenge taking shape in his mind.

“Kiss me, Silk,” requested the smouldering voice. The well-loved voice, the use of his secret nickname was enough to set him on fire, and it didn’t matter one iota that he was standing in the midst of a crowded dance club surrounded by at least half the gay population of Cascade.

Spinning round he allowed himself to be pressed back against the wall. A pair of lips gently teased his mouth open before growing bold in their exploration and devouring the whisper of welcome he offered his life-partner.

“Kai, babe. ‘Bout time you showed up.”

Startling green eyes smiled down at him, their depths warm with desire. “Couldn’t get away, Silk. As you well know, a detective’s work is never done.”

“Excuses, excuses.” He took Kai’s hand and led him to the dance floor. “It’s our anniversary. Of all days to be late.”

Ignoring his half-hearted admonition, Kai pulled him into his arms. “Dance with me, Silk,” the tall, black man whispered. “Let me feel that sexy body of yours next to mine.”

Hands slid around his waist and down his back, coming to rest on his designer linen-clad ass. Rafe gasped when a muscular thigh pressed between his legs, forcing him to straddle it as they slowly swayed together. His eyes shuttered closed, and the heavy beat of the music swallowed his moan of ecstasy.

“Taste me, Silk. Please.”

He obeyed the simple request and smiled when the darkness growled its appreciation. He continued to lave his mate’s pierced nipples, shifting back and forth between the two nubs that were connected by a thin gold chain that was an exact match to the one loosely encircling his own testicles and growing erection.

“So good. You taste so damn good, Kai.”

Muscles rippled beneath his lips as he sucked hard on a spot two inches below his lover’s well-defined pec. Another voice that was not Kai’s but that was just as heavily-laden with arousal drifted in his direction.

“Yeah, wrap those talented fingers of yours around my soldier.”

“Oh God, baby, you’re gonna make me come. So good. So shit, fucking good.”

“Kai? Did you hear that?”

Somebody was about to seriously take advantage of the club’s lenient rule regarding public sex. Rafe opened his eyes, not only to watch the impromptu floor show but also to verify why the voice of the man about to shoot his load sounded so damn familiar.

“’lo, Brian.”

A sweaty, panting, leather-clad Jim Ellison grinned at him. While both he and Kai watched, Ellison drew their attention to the man clinging to him by tangling his fingers in the thick, chestnut-coloured hair cascading down his chest. He then arched into the hand enthusiastically working his crotch before tugging on one particularly long strand and instructing through gritted teeth, “Say hello to Brian, Blair.”

Lips swollen and neck marked with numerous hickeys, a bare-chested Blair lifted his head but not his hand and smiled dreamily at the two of them. “Hello, Brian. Hello, Handsome. Wanna watch me make Jim howl?”

Three bottles of champagne later, Rafe was toasting more than the anniversary of his commitment to Kai. And because he was so damn happy, he silently forgave H for gloating about his winnings, and maybe, just maybe he’d hook him up with his sister after all.

 

+++++++

 

Jim collapsed down on top of the bed and swore heartily when he realized he was still wearing his pants. His soon-to-be husband had insisted on him wearing his old leathers for their visit to the club Rafe frequented on a regular basis. He’d been fully prepared to refuse but found himself helpless to resist the pout that had accompanied the softly-spoken order. The laced-up crotch was, of course, cutting off the circulation to Mr. Big, not to mention was itchy as hell because of the dried semen coating its inside. He could’ve cared less and was too tired to do anything more than loosen the upper laces. Blair could finish the job once he stopped fiddling with his newly purchased wedding planner.

“Okay, that takes care of Simon, Joel, H, Stephen and Rafe,” Blair happily announced. Naked as a jaybird, he plopped down on the bed beside Jim and flipped open his planner. “We’ll catch Megan and Rhonda tomorrow afternoon. I overheard Megan saying they would be meeting at ‘Barnes and Nobles’ for a latté.”

Rolling Jim over on his back, he expertly released his lover’s jewels from their leather imprisonment and grinned hugely at the grateful sigh that welcomed his assistance. The pants, along with matching vest, wrist cuffs and collar were unceremoniously tossed on the floor. Blair waited for the usual grumbled complaint but it never came. Swooping down he offered Jim a quick kiss before suggesting, “I’m thinking we could saunter in with a couple of gay sex books in hand. Maybe discuss the best lube or better yet the best condoms to use. That should do the trick, don’t’cha think?”

Jim yawned while waving one hand through the air. “Whatever, Chief. This is your plan.”

“Well, it’s a hell of a lot better than your ‘hand them a wedding invitation, let them figure it out on their own’ plan.” Blair snuggled close to his husband-to-be and slapped away the fingers that were half-heartedly scratching his favourite play toy. Reaching for a baby wipe, he tenderly removed the dried semen irritating his lover’s genitals. “Lacks finesse, Big Guy.  **Totally** lacks finesse.”

“Whatever.” Jim thanked his thoughtful guide with several breath-stealing kisses. Once he was satisfied his body had gotten its second wind, he spread his legs wide and settled Blair between his thighs. Both of them groaned when their shafts nestled perfectly against each other.

“Okay,” Jim said after investigating the tempting curves of the world’s one and only perfect ass. “As you were saying, that takes care of everybody but Megan and Rhonda. How ‘bout your mother?”

Tearing his gaze away from the spanking brand new tattoo his lover now sported on his chest, Blair rose up on his elbows and let out an evil cackle. “You are so going to love this.”

Jim immediately knew he was in trouble. “What?”

Blair used the tip of his tongue to trace the painted dragon’s tail that protectively curled around a puckered nipple. “Wanna guess who’s coming to dinner tomorrow?” he asked with a playful wink.

“SANDBURG!”

 

 The end

 

[You can find me on Tumblr!](http://angelise7.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Brian Rafe's life-partner, Detective Kai Malik-Kierran is a character I created for several zine stories I have yet to post to this archive. If you need to picture him in your mind, please think of the character, Tyr Anasazi, from the Andromeda TV series.


End file.
